Amber
The teain my mug is steaming gently, swirling with the scent of raspberry leaf and moonflower essence.
It’s a comforting blend, one that usually calms the jittery feeling in my hands, but today, it’s not quite doing the trick.
Across the kitchen table, Maisie is kicking the leg of her chair, a rhythmicthump-thump-thumpthat matches the dark storm cloud hanging over her head.
Her red glasses are sliding down her nose, and her bottom lip is stuck out in a pout that could rival a professional sulker.
“It’s not fair,” she grumbles, stabbing at her pancakes with a fork. “It’s not snowingthatbad. The other team could have driven. We practiced all week.”
“I know, bug,” I say, taking a sip of my tea. “But the highways are closed. It’s too dangerous for them to travel. The school made the right call.”
“I was going to win,” she says, dropping her fork. “I had my opening statement memorized perfectly. I was going to destroy them.”
I reach out and pat her hand. “You’ll get them next time. This just gives you more time to practice. You’ll be even more prepared.”
She sighs, a dramatic, heaving sound, and slides down in her chair.
Rufus, sensing her distress, trots over from his spot by the back door and rests his heavy head on her knee. She immediately begins to scratch him behind the ears, her fingers tangling in his golden fur.
I look away, staring out the window at the gray, slushy morning. I feel a terrible pang of guilt. I should be consoling her better, but I can’t ignore the whisper of relief in my own chest.
The truth is, I haven’t received my first paycheck from Blade & Butter yet. The money was supposed to hit my account yesterday, but there was a delay with the direct deposit setup.
If the debate had gone on today, I wouldn’t have had the forty dollars for the registration fees and the team uniform. I would have had to ask Jude for the money again.
And I just… I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t ask him for more money when he and Norah are already housing us, feeding us, and practically raising Maisie alongside me.
So, while I hate seeing my daughter disappointed, a small, selfish part of me is grateful to the weather.
The back door opens, letting in a blast of cold air and the scent of pine and rain. Norah, Jude, and Dorian stomp in, shaking off their coats.
Norah looks tired but glowing, her hand resting unconsciously on the small swell of her belly. Dorian looks weary, his hair wet from the snow.
Jude looks… intense. He always does, but there’s a softness in his eyes when he looks at Maisie.
“Morning,” Norah says, moving to the coffee pot. “Please tell me there’s coffee left.”
“Fresh pot,” I say. “Just made it.”
“Thank god.”
Jude hangs up his coat and walks over to the table. He leans down to kiss the top of Maisie’s head. “Morning, champion. Why the long face?”
“Debate is canceled,” Maisie grumbles. “Snow.”
“Ah. Well, safety first.” Jude looks at me, his gaze shifting to my left arm. I’m wearing long sleeves, but the edge of the white gauze bandage is visible at my wrist. “What happened there?”
I quickly pull my sleeve down. “Oh, nothing. Just a minor accident at the restaurant yesterday. A little run-in with a hot tray.”
Jude frowns, his protective big-brother instincts flaring up instantly. “Burned yourself? How bad is it? Did you put anything on it?”
“I’m fine, Jude. Knox took care of it. It’s just a little red.” I force a bright smile. “I’m clumsy. You know me.”
He doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push, likely because Maisie is watching us. He pours himself a coffee and leans against the counter. “You need to be more careful. Kitchens are dangerous places.”
“I know. I’m being careful.”
